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CRUMPLED LEAVES 



Crumpled Leaves 



Verse 

By 



CHRISTINE HAMILTON WATSON 



NEW YORK 

JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 

1921 



COPYRIGHT, 1 92 1 
JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 

JUL 22 '21 

©GIA622139 



AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

to 

MINERVA GILLETTE STACY WILKIN 

As blossoms spring to brighten, dot and strew 
Our daily path, so friendship has bestoived 
Its tender cheer and balm upon the road, 

For friendship is the flower's heart and thew. 

IV e love these blossoms of the way! Those who 
Loz'e us — to zvhom a wealth of joy is oived — 
With zvitchery release our dreary load 

And give an inspiration, dear, like you. 

We roam among the friendship-blossoms fine 
In deep delight : held by their fragrancy 

We zi'orship ivorth as at a sacred shrine, 
And touch some velvet beauty reverently. 

From you, dear friend, round me, each time I passed, 

A rare, pervading perfume seemed to last. 



CONTENTS 

PROEM 13 

EVENING RHAPSODY 15 

FROST FOLIAGE 19 

SAILING 21 

CHEER 23 

CONTENT 24 

RETROVERSION 25 

WILD-WIND 26 

WHITHER ? 28 

IMPEDIMENTS 29 

AGE-OLD DOORWAYS 30 

THE COMMON QUEST 31 

DREAM DAYS ^^ 

SQUAW WINTER 34 

MY NAMESAKE 35 

BUNNY BOY 35 

MYSELF AWAY 38 

FOR AN INVALID 39 

RESTRAINT 40 

IRON CROSSES 42 

"oRA PRO nobis"' 43 

IN THE BREAKERS 44 

MIND UNREST 45 

INTERVALS 45 

EASTER IN A HOSPITAL 47 

ALONG THE WAY 49 

CHILD-FAITH 50 

VOICES 5J 



CONTENTS— Continued 

DOUBT 52 

COME WITH ME 53 

A BORROWED BOOK 54 

A king's GARDEN 55 

MY neighbor's garden 57 

MY garden is my THEATRE 60 

MAY TIME 63 

an interlude 65 

the messenger 67 

so you are light to me 68 

"'will-o'-the-wisp'" 69 

a camp-fire long ago 70 

WAITING 71 

love's request 72 

love's answer 73 

the absent one 74 

your shadow 75 

the phantom of fear 76 

the garden of love 77 

reaction 78 

to a brook 79 

transition 84 

the winds of the dawning 85 

THE fairies' picnic 86 

OLD SONGS RONDEAU 87 

RONDEL OF GRATITUDE 88 

THE LIGHT 89 

A BALLADE OF DOERS • 90 



CONTENTS— Continued 

"coup de grace'^ 92 

far as the dream of space 93 

summer rain 94 

a golden day 95 

to a november rose 96 

WISHES 97 

THE SPIRIT OF THE PRAIRIE 98 

A CITY PASSING GLIMPSE 99 

TO A NIGHTHAWK ON THE WING 100 

SOUND FROM SILENT NIGHT 101 



CRUMPLED LEAVES 



PROEM 

The crumpled leaves of last year's summer day 
Are wind-swept now and torn by careless feet ; 
Like battered old beliefs that strew the way, 
Their worthlessness is scorned in wise conceit : 
Yet once, consider, once they were alive ! 
And for a season, joyous to adorn, — 
Contented idly to adorn, nor strive 
For greatness — through their life new joy was 

born. 
And so a whispering grace lives in my heart 
Through their achievement. Tho their year has 

^fled 
Its never ending day remains apart, 
And crumpled leaves, wind-blown afar and dead, 
May still, upon life's keyboard rustling, play 
A soothingly detached and minor lay! 



13 



CRUMPLED LEAVES 



EVENING RAHPSODY 

The clay is nearing night, 

And I, alcne. 

Lured by the tender evening light — 

Within my garden watch its flight. 

The twiHght's calm and power atone 

For hours of dazing gladness : 

Day's heartache, day's brief madness, 

Are gone and thoughts grow firefly-white. 

The sod beneath my feet 

Ls soft as evening's hush 

And dew's caress : 

Gleaming flower petals crush 

Their scented sweet — 

Their honeyed hearts — and press 

Each other and the drooping boughs; 

While pulsing summer air endows 

The senses with delight replete 

To still the futile rush, — 

For here I learn to fling aside 

And calm desire unsatisfied. 



15 



The pompous bumble-bee 

Drifts lazily 

From flower to flower, in each to dip, 

For one more nectar sip 

Before his day is done. 

Moth wings, with fleeting camraderie 

And fairy grace, alight on me. 

And I, dream-startled at his fun, 

Mistake the whirring humming-bird. 

Which dartles by. 

For vagrant sprite, unduly shy — 

As tho his heart were stirred 

With sly conspiracy ! 

Ah, elfin forms I think I see 

From hidden leaves uncurled. 

Is this a real, or a wonder world? 

The shadovv^s fall. 

Earth's longings pall, 

And to my spirit 

Gently sounds a distant call — 

Hark ! Hear it ! 

With city's hum and hurry far away, 

The murmurings of twilight come to stay ; 

Silences are filled with melody, 

Which nature turns to dulcet symphony 

And vibrates secrets that compel 

A recognition of the rune ; 



16 



Under the woven spell 

My ears discern the tune. 

Even the nighthawk's blatant call 

Blends wierdly, vvhimsey notes that fall 

With whirr of swooping wings — 

And out of discord brings 

A lasting harmony. 

Delphineum's cerulean blue 

Is changing to a softer hue, 

For, while I gaze, 

The blossom tints revoke — 

They seem to turn to smoke. 

And mingle with the haze 

To offer Nature-incense once anew. 

The dusk now deeper, still descends 

And lends 

Mysterious subtilties to fill the soul. 

And take its toll 

Of quickened adoration ! 

Lost in contemplation 

Of the tenuous film of night. 

Things tangible are taking flight, 

And one by one the stars and moon progress 

To lean their pure white loveliness 

Upon my dazzled sight, — 

To draw me hig'h and higher 



17 



Into their realm of silver fire. 
The earth recedes, 
And fleeting vision leads 
To new-born inner light. 



*fc>' 



God ! God is the vital heart ! 

But I, too, am a part. 

I feel a pounding flood 

Of passion sweeping through my blood 

To tell the marvel of it all — 

To speak — but I am dumb ! 

Thrilled l^}^ the highest call 

Of Heaven's resounding roll, 

Uncjuestioning, I come 

And answer, soul to soul. 



18 



FROST-FOLIAGE 

The colors in the autumn seem 

To flare and fill my mind 
With all the riot of a dream, — 

With conflict intertwined. 

Emotions leap to answer flame 

In passion unforetold. 
Which turn the rue and trifling blame 

To leaf forgotten mold. 

A mass of yellow, wild delight, 

Is spread before my eyes 
Like tawny lions when in might 

Their latent powers arise. 

Here is the woodbine's brilliant flood 

Of crimson strewn around 
As though, in wantoness, heart's blood 

Were poured upon the ground. 

And there pure white anemones 
Nod blithe and winsome faces. 

Creating art by which one sees 
Youthful, appealing graces. 



19 



Beside them flaunts vermilHon red 

Blaze-flaming with desire : — 
Not caring what is known or spread, 

It builds a funeral pyre. 

The tinge of quiet purple leaf 

Shames mad and garish sights. 
And paints great pictures, clear though brief, 

Which wisdom's lore unites. 

But gold, gold shines above the rest. 

Reflecting passing schemes : 
The dying autumn day is dressed 

In living, golden dreams. 

And all this brilliant, dull, embossed. 

Sad-sombre, glorious whole. 
Is like our lives: — a touch of frost 

And gold lights up the soul ! 



20 



SAILING 

A fleet of sailboats, we — 
Blown, chartless, over life's rough sea; 

And each must sail alone — 
Adventure on from zone to zone 
Sails trimmed or free. 

The sea is bright or gray; 
It may be calm; it may be gay 

With gold on every wave : 
But there are storms and night to brave 
That seek their prey! 

A deadly calm is worst ! 
One is not always haply versed 

In saving energy 
Against the fell monotony 
That sleeps, accursed. 

When we are tossed by waves 
The tossing is the part that saves; 

We take the spray arace, 
Bow-forward, fully in the face, 
Tho Neptune raves. 



21 



But if the winds are strong 
Unseemly hurtling us along, 

A battle is the thing — 
The note of courage spiriting 
Our chanty song. 

When tempest, though we flee, 
Shall hurl us shoreward ruthlessly. 

Eternity looms bright 
To guide us with its harbor light 
Safe home from sea! 



22 



CHEER 

Upon this dismal, murky day, 
I heard the note of a chickadee 

BHthely sound this roundelay — 

*'The sun is shining for me — me — me !" 

And as I caught the cheering sound, 
My heart rose over the chilling mist 

To match the high light it had found. 
The sun is shining; I, too, insist! 



23 



CONTENT 

Contentment rarely comes without the pang 

Of birth to life: 
The wisdom of experience must hang 

On calm and strife. 

Stem pain as well as cherished pleasure's glow 

Is Heaven sent, — : 
For Joy and Grief must join to make us know 

Their child, Content. 



24 



RETROVERSION 

The ocean beats in thunderous waves 

Upon the shore, 
And so my heart, tumultuous, beats, 

As at your door. 

The surf-wave, spent, recedes along 

The beach -wide shelf. 
And I, too, baffled, shrink away 

Within myself ! 



25 



WILD-WIND 

Wild-wind, inhuman and unkind ! 
It writhes and moans, is never still 
And with a gust, in wrath designed, 
Attempts, mob-like, to have its will. 

Roaring, swirling in reckless might, 
It flings defiance to mankind; 
It makes me long to turn in flight,— 
This unrelenting blasting wind. 

Untamed, aggressive, fierce and coarse. 

It rudely hisses in my ears; 

It bends my faith with brutal force 

And breaks its strength against my fears. 

I brave the wild tempestuous storm, 
But find my courage torn to bits; 
I fight the unrestrained vague form, 
Yet will not coward-like cry quits. 

Why such remorseless ways, O wind! 
Is it the world's returned unrest, 
Which forces calm to seethe and find 
Such brutal strength, such wanton zest? 



26 



Or does the surging, restless wind 

War with the "still small voice" and prove 

The apotheosis of the mind — 

The Godlike strength of truth and love? 

Though sufferings and storms infuse 
Their searching questions into me, 
Though fearful winds I would not choose, 
They help — not harm — humanity. 

Oh life, so tossed and tempest-blind, 
So at the mercy of storm's dole, 
Your lessons come and thus I find 
A raging gale may brace the soul. 



27 



WHITHER? 

Whither away 

Fleet bird, so gay? 

You flit across the evening sky — 

Where and why? 

Soft wind that blows, 

You come, who knows 

Whence! And what message do you send 

To earth's far end? 

Why are you here, 

night moth near — 

Are you a spirit born anew? 

1 wonder who ! 

Oh, evening star 

You circle far! 

And like my soul — ^beyond the hither 

I question — Whither? 



28 



IMPEDIMENTS 

Our yielding lives drift hampered 
By trivial things that we must do ! 

God at our feet — 

Yet we must eat ! 
And we are, oh, so pampered 
That we grow hardened — I and you, 

Our aims are vain or groundless 
For we are held by things we see. 

Our bodies — Oh 

Let them go! 
Can we not find the boundless. 
Since now it is eternity? 



29 



AGE-OLD DOORWAYS 

From out of Life's wide window, 

In Age's little house, 
I saw a pathway winding 

To a tempting gay carouse. 

There was a door wide open, 

To prove that I could go ; 
But when I turned my footsteps 

I saw dead ashes blow ! 

Alas, that open doorway 
Bewildering with its view! 

To feel the lure beyond it — 

And not, and not pass through! 

Yet T would rather see it, 
And yield no step to win, 

Than never know the brilliance 
From a shuttered black within. 



30 



THE COMMON QUEST 

I hunted for my Happiness — 

Hunted untiring, here and there ! 

I ran along far roadways where 

I thought I saw her velvet dress 

Or caught the tinge of love kissed hair. 

I searched on day's high mountain plot. 
Through dusky star-lit deep of night; 
I even sought where fancy-flight 
Sees phantom threads of hope unknot 
And each retreat I probed outright. 

With haste I took life's proffered lure 
And went to every splendid fete ; 
In festal garments, far and late 
I hunted, hunted to secure 
The gift her powers irradiate. 

And sometimes when I turned my eyes 
I seemed to see her raptured face. 
And other times in passioned place 
I felt with clinging swift surprise 
Her wonder webs of filmy lace. 

But when she wore her finest gown, 
The gown of flowing flaming white 
Made pure with iridescent light. 



31 



She fled from me, o'er heath and down 
And left me craving nearer sight. 

At last with baffled hope and torn 
By jagged pain, I gave the cry — 
*'Now home, the search to crucify!" 
And there within that sHghted bourne 
My highest Happiness stood by. 



32 



DREAM-DAYS 

Some days we see beyond the reach of wind ! 
Tho born within the body's prison case, 
Or wrapped in fogs of circumstance, the mind 
Can rise and, winging, soar afar in space. 

Perchance the eyes find but a sorry dream 
And, Hke the swooping nighthawk after food, 
The spirits sink, then catch the proffered gleam 
Of hope and rise again in quest of good. 

Sometimes the days are happiest when so 
The spirit-eyes are freed, — when will-o'-the-wisp 
From shadowed space upflares and, awed, we 

know 
The harmonies that phantom tongues can lisp. 



SQUAW WINTER 

When I looked up, the other day, 

I saw the sky all darkly gray, 
Except what seemed to be a stage. 

What could lits brilliant light presage? 
I questioned what it was about, 

But answers, each, were put to rout, 
Until the secret's edge was limned, 

Precisely as the light was dimmed ! 

Then suddenly I saw, as flirts, 

A million billowy ballet skirts ; — 
Tier on tier, tiptoe, hand in hand, 

Swayed, twisted, turned a cloudlet band. 
Hie prima donna led the rest, 

-\Iost daintily with swansdown dressed. 
And then the others scudded out 

Trained ready for the dance, no doubt. 

W^ith that the grayish curtain fell, 

And in the air, from hill to dell. 
Some fluffy flakes were shaken down, 

From each soft white and cloudy gown. 
At last the secret, then, was out — 

First snow was scattered all about ! 
It was Squaw Winter's pretty play, 

Preceding Indian Summer's day. 



34 



MY NAMESAKE 

Dear little girl with the bronzy curl, 

I am thinking of you, to-day — 
Your eyes nut-brown and the fluttering down 

Of your soft and tender way. 

You darling thing, I long to sing, 

Because you are blithe and gay. 
And you — so sweet, with tripping feet, 

Can lead my world this day. 

I feel you hear and enfold you, dear, 

In my longing, wistful arms. 
And when you come so frolicsome. 

You vanquish life's alarms. 

You own my heart — not just a part. 

And you love me, I know. 
To me there's bliss in your sweet kiss 

That m,akes my heart's blood flow. 



35 



"BUNNY BOY" 

Dear tiny boy with eyes of blue 

And mischievous, alkiring smile, 
I long to watch yon each day through 
To see the winsome things you do. 

And let your artful ways beguile. 

I love your darling little self ; 

Your constant pitter-pat of feet 
As you pursue your chosen pelf : 
You know your power, you roguish elf, 

With glances charmingly discreet ! 

Your chatter has the dearest sound ; 

To be grown up you bravely try. 
You're such a treasure, I have found 
That no one counts with you around. 

And cares develop wings and fly. 

Although big brothers in their play 

Give thumps and bumps, you shed few tears ; 
And when you blink the signs away, 
A hint of manhood you betray. 

Though less than two, your earth-lived years. 

You seem to know so many things, 

I think when you were earthward bound. 



Through cloud space where the sky-lark sings, 
The Wisdom Angel with his wings 

Touched you and made your thought profound. 

I've loved you since you were brand new, 

And when I have a baby boy — 
(My dream eyes can possess one, too !) 
I'll have him fashioned just like you; 

Your phantom self of bounding joy. 



17 



MYSELF AWAY 

Whene'er I say — "I'm not myself to-day," 

I wonder what I mean. 
Does some bad fay come steaHng me away 

And keep itself unseen? 

I feel 'tis right that this uncanny sprite, 
Which makes my soul depressed, 

Should not incite within my true self flight 
To cowardly unrest. 

So I shall say that I am "out" to-day 

When not what I should be; 
I hate delay, yet surely 'tis fair play 

If not myself, you see. 

But why permit that creature to outwit 

Or take my form and face? 
I'll make it quit ! I will not have an "it" — 

A usurper in my place ! 



38 



FOR AN INVALID 

Oh I am thankful for a room 

With cozy fluffy bed, 
Where I can pause awhile and rest 

My burdened pain-bent head. 

Tho pains may come and joys may flee, 

Yet I can always find 
This restful little comfort nook 

Where I can tuck my mind. 

The blessings of the world are big 
Tho small they often seem; 

And he is blessed who has a bed 
Where he may sleep and dream. 

And so again I give heart thanks 
For common boons of man, 

Tho idly I must watch poor Life 
Drag Eain's dull caravan ! 



39 



RESTRAINT 

I long to roam the wide earth unrestrained, 
To see my yearning wishes all attained, 
To wander through the shady forest glen, 
And feel the freedom of the world again, — 

But I can knit ! 
Long row on row, to lull the wants of me 
And weave the liberty of life. I'm free — 

For I can knit ! 

I long to gain a knowledge of the earth. 
Of men, of countries and of every worth. 
I cannot loiter where the great and wise 
Drop words of wonder and philosophize, — 

But I can read ! 
Books are the panacea for dull days, 
Transforming monotones to hymns of praise, 

For I can read ! 

I long to see a wide expanse of sky 
With fairy clouds, sun-burnished, floating by; 
I long to climb and scale the dizzy height 
To feel the wafted measure of their might, — 

But I can dream! 
I shut my eyes and all the sky possess, 
I lose the dross of mundane ugliness. 

For I can dream! 



40 



I long to carry joy among mankind. 
And, finding some one sorrowful of mind, 
To give to him a comforting caress. 
To place new hopes where battered hopes dis- 
tress, 

But I can love! 
I'll send the waves of thought with vital verve 
To stir the veil which hides the soul. I serve, 

For I can love ! 



41 



IRON CROSSES 

Great courage and surpassing bravery, 

In this world's battle, win the service cross 

And praise of men. But oh, what pangs there be 
For those who live to bear the cruel loss ! 

The conflicts waged within us are so great 
We wonder why we care to light at all. 

Sometimes the clinging burdens dominate. 
Benumb us, till we care not what befall. 

What honor, glory, come through discipline 
To waiting ones? They, battling in the soul 

xA.re reaping hidden gain and strive to win — 
Ah, through hard iron crosses — to the goal ! 



42 



"ORA PRO NOBIS" 

So vague is time! For what do we await? 
The hours, the days, the months, the weary years 
Drag by, their nets o'erbrimming with life's 

fears. 
How full is earth of hopeless souls whom fate 
Has flung into the maelstrom whirl of hate. 
Of blighting change, of turbid war which leers 
Into our faces with its horrid jeers ! 
Oh, pray for us, that time may extricate. 

We pine for vain delights that swiftly flee, — 
For fame, success or evanescent might. 
Why choose such earthly fleeting majesty? 
Time laughs, and takes it from us in a night! 
We wait but fortime's deep and moulding line 
To mark our souls with an eternal sign. 



43 



IN THE BREAKERS 

Great billows of despair 

Have broken over me. 
I have been tossed in air 

And flung down by this sea. 

The deeps of sordid strife 
Have crushed and left a scar : 

The undertow of life 

Has torn me, drawn me far. 

Deep down I was submerged, — 
Ay, smothered in the swirl 

When the waves fumed and surged 
In the mad sweeping whirl. 

Alone, alone I found 
Not one to see my need. 

Helpless, I almost drowned 
For just some one to heed. 

Oh, marvelous life-line 

Flung out to rescue me ! 
It was some power divine — 

Saving from life's dark sea! 



44 



MIND UNREST 

Chaos ! Enigmatic, falling, 
Ever sinking in a hopeless plight. 
Useless probe and futile calling; 
Empty answer — bafflement and night ! 

Soul of mine, why wonder, wonder — 

W'hen you cannot, must not know the whole? 

Chaos shall be rent asunder 

When the heavens spread their flashing scroll. 



45 



INTERVALS 

The long dark intervals that teem 

Between the times worth while 
Are intricate and vague, and seem 
Devoid of any helpful gleam 
We crave to mark life's dial. 

But fleeting moments most divine, 

Which no one can prolong. 
Disclose the ])rilliance of soul-shine^ 
Reveal the heights of God's design. 

And fill the heart w^ith song. 

Tlie dreary interval outvies 

The frowning intervales 
Deep hidden where the mountains rise 
To overshadow that which lies 

W^ithin the humble swales. 

We cannot scale the utmost height 
Nor dwell in thought sublime. 

But life holds balances, and light 

Can touch our spiritual sight 
To beautify all time. 



46 



EASTER IN A HOSPITAL 

Lo, Easter! Early morning darkness clings 

And slowly lifts the heavy pall of dread 

To lessen, gently, weary sufferings; 

The long night filled with pain, with torture fed, 

At last is nearly gone ; another day 

Is creeping through the open window sash 

To bring reviving courage with its breath. 

For this is Easter on its way! 
And Easter morn forgets the cruel lash. 
And Easter hastens healing out of death. 

The day assumes a mildly stirring tone 
Contrasting wiih the stifling ethered air 
Which penetrates and brings a muffled moan. 
Far distant sounds of deep toned bells declare 
A pleasing message so serenely clear 
That, tho a frighttened child in anguish screams. 
The dreaded shadows pass and radiance shines ! 

For Easter has an atmosphere 
That, aching heart and injury, redeems, 
That, hope and joy and reverence, combines. 

The hesitating step, the breath of flowers 
Proclaim a visitor to some closed door 
Where silences are ominous of hoiu's 
Beating their poignant sword-thrusts to the core. 
Through tranquil stillness, sudden clink of dish 
47 



Is borne, an anxious whispered call and then, 
Although it is the Resurrection Day, 

A nurse's rapid rustling swish 
Is heard adown the hall and back again, 
Mayhap to ease a soul on death's lone way. 

Supreme and holy Resurrection Day ! 

The day victorious Christ fresh comfort brings, 

With conquering relief for pain-torn clay, 

And thought that lifts one up to highest things. 

To-day I see the Lord ; the world is fair 

And I can never cease through Easter Day 

To glorify this new Epiphany. 

God's manifested love to wear, 
The past sad crown of thorns is put away — 
I live again through living Calvary ! 



Spirit of Easier! Hallowed chimes that fall 
With silver-ringing cadence on the air ! 
Past Golgotha's dark cross and bitter gall. 
They waft their sacred praises on. where'er 
An av/e-lilled heart is kneeling low to pray 
And chant the antiphon. The skies relume 
Christ love, and heaven's advent lingereth, 

For this is happy Easter Day ! 
And Easter joy leaves grieving in the tomb 
And Easter giveth life in place of death. 



48 



ALONG THE WAY 

Along the way we find the rock strewn path, 

The hard ascent, the steep declivity ; 

But God, above the wounding roadway, hath 

Bestowed the tinted clouds, the sun-kissed leaves, 

The strong uplifting spell which pure air weaves, 

And richest treasure given for us to see — 

So, I forget distresses which abound 

To look and find God's blessings all around. 



49 



CHILD-FAITH 

Oh, close and confident I lie 

Against God's heart, upon the grass, 

And look up in his face — the sky 

And try to know his thoughts that pass. 

But tliough I cannot fathom far, 
I know he holds me all the while; 

And when he signals with a star, 
I see his love, — a twinkling smile ! 



50 



VOICES 

Voices come calling across the plain; 
Voice of the wind and voice of the rain, 
Eagerly calling to children of men — 
"Come, rise above the nothings of earth. 
Search out the marvels of highest worth 
That cannot be told by tongue or pen." 

Voices come whispering over the leas ; 
Voices of grasses, the leaves of the trees 
Gently intone as they sway to and fro — 
''Leave all the vanishing forces awhile, 
Let spirit ascend from earth, mile on mile, 
And seek for the things that we do not know.' 

A voice from the forest vibrates afar; 
The voice from the cloud that sings to a star 
Carries us upward, higher than thought, 
Loosens the chains of cause and effect, 
While will-power, faith and judgment elect 
To overleap wisdom that earth has bought. 

Voices pursue us — are they in vain? 
Songs of the veery, the lark's refrain 
Tenderly thrill us, and we, too, soar, — 
For something lifts when the lark-note rings 
To something beyong the outside of things 
And God in His home seems just next door. 
51 



DOUBT 

The shadow signs of doubt that dare 
To trace themselves around my heart, 

Stand out a twisted mesh of care, 

Like barren stems, which have the art 

To emphasize their heavy Hues. 

In contrast to the wall, such vines 
Look strong as ropes. 

And on ii, clinging, each dark stem entwines. 

Black coils exaggerate their girth : 

They mar with many a grievous mark 

When winter rigors cause a dearth 
Of fruitful life and leave them stark. 

But all the wealth that waits so well 

On spring's leaf-elves with later swell 
To guard new hopes 

And screen the doubt beneath their sylvan spell ! 



52 



COME WITH ME 

Oh come with me, dear weeping heart, 

And we will go away; 
For 1 am tired of pains that dart 
And you are saddened from the smart 

Of things that hurt to-day. 

Together we will share a dream 

Of triumph, you and I, 
Because within us things that seem 
Composed of grief — and nerves that scream- 
Are earnestly cast by! 

Companions, up and up, we go, — 

My weary heart and yours ; 
For cloud-top-high are dreams aglow, 
And we shall catch the overflow 

Through sunny apertures. 

Yes, come w^th me, dear lonely one, 

For we are kin, I know ; 
And hand in hand we shall outrun 
The dolors that our hearts would shun ! 

Oh come with me and go ! 



53 



A BORROWED BOOK 

Some one has caught a glimpse of stagnant 

hours, 
Has seen the tiresome tinge of Day-by-Day, 
Has felt that long Monotony lacks flowers 
And needs a sprite to spirit Time away. 

And so my friend has gathered a bouquet 
Of treasured words that in her garden grew, 
And lent to me a poet's brilliant spray 
Of time-diverting verses, fresh as dew. 

The sunshine of my friend I borrow, too, 
And shadow^s are dispelled, the hours beguiled; 
The weariness is gone, the light is new; 
With friendly Time I now am reconciled! 



54 



A KING'S GARDEN 

A formal garden is a fair plaisance, 
Yet cold and stately in its way, and so 
To me it is an artificial show — 

The ostentation of the renaissance. 

The endless view of straight, precise, tall trees 
Which border on the sweeping esplanade, 
Is like stitT lines of soldiers on parade 

Saluting pompous power with each breeze. 

The sculptured fountain, spurting all the time 
And gulping back, insatiable with greed. 
Wastes sparkling water, feeding but the weed 

That thrives down underneath amidst the slime. 

Patrician poplars, slim and graceful, sway 
In surface pride, like social parasites. 
With shallow roots — absorbing topmost lights 

And reaching far and near for all they may. 

The gay parterres enravish wondrously, 
And revel in symmetrical, bright bloom, 
But all the ornament is nature's doom 

With its repelling regularity. 

The winding walks and tall dividing hedge — 
The nooks clandestine that fond youth invites, 
55 



Seem like a stage all set for love's delights 
And force the senses with a hateful wedge. 

Nobility is gone ! There is a dearth 

Of charming inconsistency's wild sway : 
Such gardens garnish Nature for display, 

And lack the ancient dignity of earth! 



56 



MY NEIGHBOR'S GARDEN 

My next neighbor's garden is laid in a square 
Of bright quilted patchwork, with pattern-form 

there 
As gay as the ones that my grandmother made 
Wiien patterns were borrowed in friendliest 

trade. 
The colors, design and the flowers fuse glints 
To come back as one, one that suddenly prints 
A unified picture of old-fashioned ways — 
The stately, the slow, the colonial days. 

My neighbor's near garden, so lovely a square, 
Can turn every eye from delights otherwhere 
To trace, around corners, down parallel lines. 
The form that some fanciful title defines — 
For like the quaint calico patchwork of old 
The pattern's arrangement is made to unfold 
With paths' all about and with strips in between 
Embroidered in stitches of mossy deep green. 

This heart warming garden that lies just next 

door 
Is modeled to capture the fancy still more 
Restudying pictures of petal and pose 
That make up the pieces. The Larkspurs in rows 
Are telling the praises of Fox-glove's new bonnet 
Where bees are low droning a honey-sweet 

sonnet : 

57 



The hickory bench on a small patch of grass 
Is so luring a place that no lover could pass, 
And figures and flowers of olden day hue 
Are keyed to the tone of the Heavenly-Blue; 
While right in the center of this brilliant block 
Is skillfully set an old sundial-clock 
Surrounded vs^ith roses — some pink and some 

yellow — 
All pointing or nodding to far North-Star fellow. 

A charming wee entrance to this dear retreat 
Is through a square-latticed and white garden 

seat 
Where under its archway one's fancy may see 
The picture of jubilant butterfly glee, 
Or humming-birds hover to dip in and sup 
The sugar from deep in each flower made cup : 
Far borders are skirted with delivate Phlox 
And bowing, demurely-serene Hollyhocks. 

Ah me, this quaint garden is truly the place 
To feel something haunting averting my face 
To long ago times when sweet modest ways 
And making of patchwork fulfilled olden days. 

Each month the fair pattern remains quite the 

same 
With different blocks in the rose-garland frame; 



58 



And different bevys of blossoming faces 
Re-picture my mind with the stateHest graces — 
These flowered designs which constrain me to 

harbor 
Odd whimseys of old as I walk in my arbor ! 

What wonder that, near this enchanting gay 

square, 
I love to go looking and lingering there! 



59 



MY GARDEN IS MY THEATRE 

A garden theatre I own 

And when I long to see a play 

I watch its pageant, — in a way 
True acts are shown. 

The scenery is always set : 

The summer-house, the trellised arch, 
The deep green shrubs and feather-larch 

Dew sparkling wet. 

The rustic bench is waiting there 
Beneath the tree and just beyond, 

The dial darkened signs respond 
To sunshine fair. 

The sky for background gives a glow 
No human artist-brush could sketch 

With clouds all silver-tipped to etch 
The depth below. 

And actors come and go for me : 
They are the birds, the butterflies. 

The fairies' wings, — if you are wise 
You, too, can see. 

The blossoms nod and turn their heads 
At bumble-bee's insistent kiss, 
60 



As — rumbling, hungering, loving — this 
Is how he weds. 



The orchestra is perfect here : 
It pipes and plays in lofty trees, 

.Vnd every note is one to please, 
So true, so clear. 

It even trills such thrilling lays. 

That satyrs come, and nymphs and fauns, 
To dance and prance across the lawns 

In mist arrays. 

It is a play of sweet repose ; 

No sordid problems to be solved, 
No hate or tragedy involved, 

Or lover woes. 

The robins know I love their song; 

They flit and turn before they soar. 
And even answer my encore 

In cadence long. 

Then brown leaves flutter, one by one. 
To tell me that this nature play, 

Which I have watched, day after day. 
Is almost done. 



61 



And when night's dusky curtain drops 
I feel at rest — not worn with strain 

Attempting, foolishly, to gain 
Life's trumpery sops. 



62 



MAY-TIME 

May-time! Oh, this hour just breathe 
The matchless fragrance of the air, 

Wind-wafted here and everywhere 
And let its incense round you wreathe ! 

The sky is an enameled sf^here 
Revealing luminous bright tones 

That shine upon the day ; its zones 
Of gloom dispelled by sunshine clear. 

The tender opening leaf of green 
Enchants us with elusive might : 

It has unfolded over night 
With vital promises unseen. 

Behold the brilliant pageant — bud 

And blossom waving toward the green 

Banners of silk in royal sheen — 
For so come joys of May aflood ! 

The hyacinths and daffodils 

Proclaim with pride — the spirit hears^, 
Inaudible to other ears — 

That Spring is walking on the hills. 

The birds have come to herald, too, 
Her presence in the homestead plot: 
63 



Look ! Hear the joyous polyglot 

From flashing red and gold and hliie! 

Dull spirits feel themselves transform 

To ecstacy, like this brave choir, 
Which warbles with enraptured fire 

And sways fruit-petals into storm. 

Horsechestnut trees along the street 

Have decked themselves with waxen blooms, 

Which gleam like candle lights in rooms 
Before their wax is burned complete. 

You never, never could express 
The rapture, the enthralling power 

Which comes to you in such an hour, 
And buoys you up for life's duress. 

It must have been sometime in May 

That God looked on his work on earth, 

And found it good ! And now rebirth 
Is also thrilling us, to-day! 



64 



AN INTERLUDE 

Musicians sometimes change 

A deep refrain 

And turn the melody to strange 

S\\'eet haunting notes that wake to life 

And in our hearts remain. 

vSo, in the harmony 

Of life's delight 

Strange moments leap to memory 

And, touching deeper chords of life, 

Link strains of subtle might. 

Thus it was today 

As forth I rode. 

Contentedly, my role to play 

And feel the throbbing pulse of life 

Which, ghostly, by me strode. 

Then suddenly, you passed 
And looked at me — 
And held my spirit fast! 
Unlike a stranger's countenance 
Which turns with casual glance 
To look, and does not see. 
Your soul met mine — 
And, for a moment, wine 
Coursed through my veins 
Like rain in hurricanes. 
65 



Swayed by a master sign 

The major purpose to refine 

The music changed, and melody 

I heard, in weird and minor key. 

I felt a thrill of spirited surprise 

And turned to question your insistent eyes. 

What did you see — 

Why did you look at me 

With sphinx-like scrutiny? 

Questions echoed through the whirr 
Of traffic as we passed. 
I wondered why the songs that were 
Should change so unexpectedly 
To let another make for me 
Odd strains which held me fast 
With instant comraderie ! 

It was a bar of harmony 
In concord with the world. 
Driving on, impelling me — 
The wheels of life were whirled ! 



66 



THE MESSENGER 

Oh Bluebird, winging near me, 

You veer away and then, 
Returning, bear a message 

To tell again, again! 
Is Eros in the secret? 

Has he dispatched you here 
To flash your feathers gleaming bright, 

And pipe your song of cheer? 

You deepen heaven's color 

Bird-sprite of Happiness: 
You bring unto my senses 
A message to redress 
For days of chilling loneness. 

For days of sable hue, 
When I would give all I possess 

To hear, dear heart, from you. 

How strangely I am trembling 

At your transporting note, 
For I was faint with lono;ing: 

To hear that pulsing throat ! 
The reason you are Happiness 

I know! Its truth I prove. 
The reason? Well, why not confess — 

You sing to me of love. 



67 



so YOU ARE LIGHT TO ME 

The herald of the coming day 

Is rolling back the night, 
And beauty of the dawning gray 

Before the wealth of light 
Is like the shadow-thoughts that stray 
To greet me when you are away. 

When splendor of the day is here 

And empty night is gone. 
The gracious radiance and cheer 

Are love's own benison, — 
The love that shines when you are near, 
A sparkling signal to endear. 

The rays that evening sunsets fling 

Around the glowing rose 
When lingering tender kisses cling 

The flower heart to disclose. 
Are like you. too, the love you bring 
With day's repeated offering. 

And does the morning light unroll 

The miracle of day? 
And does the daylight still control 

The evening softened ray? 
So you, my love, can make the whole 
Of light for me — day's living soul. 
68 



"WILL-O'-THE WISP" 

Alas, my fond desire is ''Will-'-o-the-Wisp" ! 

He holds me charmed with glimmer clear and 
crisp. 
Yet teases me with his elusive wile, 

Which frees me, only backward to beguile. 

A phantom "Will-o'-the-Wisp" is my desire! 

I reach for its reflected light, but higher, 
Now here, now there, it dances in my eyes, 

Dazzling and blinding — then aw^ay it flies. 

Oh deep desire, oh haunting "Will-o*-the-Wisp", 
With those sweet hopes and longings that you 
lisp, 

Torment me not with your evasive spell, 
Release me, please, till I charm you as well ! 



69 



A CAMP-FIRE LONG AGO 

A certain camp-fire lives and burns 

In a corner of my mind ; 
Its leaping flame remembering turns 

Old fuel's heart to find. 

The pine logs draw a shadow straight 
With the silver pointed moon, 

And dancing wraiths with bows ornate 
Are humming secret rune. 

Wood embers dead long years ago 

No flames can vitalize; 
But I can keep my fire aglow 

By the light within your eyes. 



70 



WAITING 

The summer's urgent lurement, gay, 
With leaves all beckoning in gracious play, 
Compels me to the joyance of each day — 
But you are far away. 

Cicades loudly call and sing, 
The flowers shine, the birds are on the wing, 
And, oh, the woodland is a living thing. 
But you, they do not bring. 

The water gently laves the dock 
Where waiting boats beside the lake-shore rock ; 
I hear the leader's bell among the flock, 
But not your knock. 

Alas, I want you here again! 
The road you chose wound over hill and plain. 
And where you went, 'tis there my heart has lain, 
I wait, but not in vain. 



71 



LOVE'S REQUEST 

Tell me why the beauty of the roses, 
Lovely in the tender night's disguise, 

Never in the starshine quite uncloses 

Secrets that my heart would keenly prize. 

Subtly to my lips I feel a pleasure 

Wafted like the sense of being kissed : 

Roses' hearts and yours are haunting treasure — 
Both seem often hidden in a mist. 

Mist of evening veil and velvet petal, 
Sweetness unresponsive to my sight, 

Tell me why the rose and you unsettle 
Calm of vision clear and night's delight? 

Speak to me and make the mist uncover 
Heart of rose and heart of one more dear : 

Whisper to me through the dusk, my lover, 
Speak and make love's meaning wholly clear! 



72 



LOVE'S ANSWER 

You cannot tell with lips my heart's requesting, 
You may not even softly lift your voice, 

But oh, your eyes dear love-looks are attesting, 
And keeping tryst to make my heart rejoice. 

The silence of your soul you are obeying, 
No tender thought of me you need to tell, 

For oh, my lover, your deep eyes are saying 
"I love you, dear, I love you, love you well." 



73 



THE ABSENT ONE 

All day my thoughts are wandering with you. 
All through the night they still go dreaming on. 
Then they, content, at happy rendezvous, 
Are like the halcyon. 

You are the clear and calm life-buoyant pool, 
And yieldingly I sink upon your breast : 
Thus held, my thoughts are nestling, warmly, 
cool, 
And find their perfect rest ! 



74 



YOUR SHADOW 

From you no gloomy shadow falls 
Within my room when you are here; 
But warmest golden light installs 
Itself — if you are near. 

The playful shadow only comes 

When you are gone, with wayward knack; 

And that dull silver-chill benumbs 

The light — till you come back. 

Your shadow is so strange a thing; 
Detached from you it seems to grow. 
You never tiny vestige bring — 
Yet leave it when you go! 



75 



THE PHANTOM OF FEAR 

Listen to the music's throb ! 

Strains of vioHn that sob 
Unresponding to the magic of the night : 

How they beat a hateful wonder 

As they strike my joy asunder — 
Unrelenting tones that, passing, leave afifright. 

I was thinking, dear, of you, 

Passing fondly in review 
Happy hours that linger, charming with delight, 

But the music's sudden robbing 

Of the quiet with its sobbing 
Chilled my soul, till on my spirit fell a blight! 

Oh, the horror of the thought 

That the threnody so brought — 
Endless moments lacking touch of you, or sight ! 

See the ghost dance in derision 

As it makes a mental vision 
And intones a ghastly measure, dead and white ! 



76 



THE GARDEN OF LOVE 

Sweet are the gifts of the garden, my lover; 

Garlands of perfume my senses entwine, 
Blossoms bend low^ and their petals uncover 

Odors more potent than merit of mine. 

You are the gift of love's garden, my treasure ; 

You are the spirit the flowers possess — 
Sem]>lance of nature's most ravishing measure, 

Blendincr endearments with heaven's caress. 



Sweet as the garden's own fragrancy clinging. 
Fair as the beauty the tanglement sheds, 

Dearer by far is the love you are bringing. 
Dearer the time which your lingering weds. 

You arc the heart of the garden's wild rapture, 
You are the magic of flowers aglcam, 

You are the hope that my soul flies to capture — 
Garlanded wonder and fancy adream ! 



71 



REACTION 

The beautiful things of this glorious world 
Are so fathomless in their delight, 

That beauty surpassing the vision, has hurled 
My soul into blackness of night. 

The marvelous justice and wisdom of thought, 
That is sometimes the gift of a man, 

Is so godlike that wonder and reverence have 
wrought 
In my mind a far place hard to span. 

And the love that you bear me, Oh lover of mine, 

Is so high and so holy a boon 
That my spirit relaxes, transition benign 

Alakes my heart sink in death, like a swoon. 



78. 



TO A BROOK 

All verse of "babbling brooks" should be taboo ! 

Forbidden in memorials of rhyme, — 

But who could fail to sing the heart of you, 

O mystic, whispering element of time? 

You disregard both cycle and the clime, 

Descendent of eternity's first rill; 

You live and flow in mimic pantomime 

Of motion and with music's charm you fill 

Your upturned shining cup of mirrored daffodil. 

Your origin you chant to silver grace 
Of mountain vales where transitory things 
Like dew or opalescent cloud first trace 
Efi'ect unchangeable, which downward flings 
Creation's essence with a rush that swings 
And tumbles by the flimsy haunts of men, 
That hurries by the marsh where bog-mosS' 

clings. 
Before you find the shining pool and then 
Attain the final headlong plunge beyond the glen. 

You bear the imprint of your maker's clear 
Design in your ecstatic ordered flow. 
At present like the days of yester-year 
You coine with syllables of joy, and go 
Your way where even grievous symbols grow 
Against malicious rocks — the rocks that dash 
79 



Hurt tears of spray! Here, flecks of sunshme 

glow. 
There, tiny wisps of straw can cut a gash, 
And shade reheves bewildering dancing lights 

that plash. 

How merrily your rippling laughter fills 
The glade and makes the quiet lowland proud 
To own the argent flow your life distills ! 
As placid intellects look on a crowd 
Of children clamoring in play so loud 
That heart is freshened and receives a stir. 
So earth along your margin is endowed 
With greater beauty ! Oh fleet reveller. 
Laugh on in gurgling rapture-joys, our mes- 
senger ! 
The age-old minstrel wind pipes on and on 
And improvises tender melody 
That swells and flows in perfect unison 
W'ith flower bells and joins the harmony 
Of tinkling liquid, — making jubilee. 
So crystal clear, so full of music's might, 
That precious loveliness can keep the key 
Till each new morn recalls the face of light 
Above the clinging velvet cloak of sapphire night. 

Reflected garniture of lacy cloud 
And leaflage tapestry enchant the eyes 
So deftly that a ravished spirit bowed 
In worship ere swift magic brought surprise 
80 



Of dreams to soften day. Such mellow guise 
Enhances lattice-work of trampled grass, 
And violets whose sundrenched leaves baptize , 
The soul with mystery. Sweet, cool morass 
Exhaling perfume nought in woodland can 
surpass. 

What wonder, thus attuned and thus adorned 
That swiftly flitting birds give pause and bend 
A downward course; that gauzy wings have 

scorned 
The blue, your fascination to attend 
And mingle metal-colorings that blend 
Where down turned mirrored grassy stems 

portray 
Your spirit — like the loved face of a friend 
Reflecting joy or sympathy to stay 
O'er wrought emotion with serene composing 

ray. 

Oh, lovely delicately rippling brook, 
Why leap ahead and haste for that beyond 
With splashing eagerness and longing look? 
So, ardent youth impels the wizard-wand 
Of time, believing that the the diamond 
Of life is only held by Future's hour! 
Do not forget your present emerald frond, 
Your lily pearl, the ruby of your flower, 
And darkest night made clear and fresh by opal 
shower. 

81 



The evening luster of the turquoise sky, 
With moonstone set and interlacing jade 
Of filmy leaves are all to glorify ! 
Does memory of precious gems soon fade? 
Ah, youth is a deserting renegade 
From even youth's delightsomeness, and fast 
Your lovely water-path leads unafraid 
Beyond the shielding mother-banks and past 
Protecting trees to reach the broader fields at 
last. 

Alas, it is beyond my pov^^er to tell 
The mysteries you prattle openly. 
Tho only joy and pleasure seem to dwell 
In you, you teach beguiling witchery 
Of childlike love and fresh philosophy. 
Your future qualities will surely steal 
This honeyed magic in its purity. 
And in the glassy depths of pools reveal 
The deeper things which lightsome laughter must 
conceal. 

There you will dream again of winsome youth — 
Will clearly indicate what lay before, 
And find the undercurrent of first truth 
Re-rippling gently now along the shore: 
With silent undersong you will restore 



82 



The phantom hopes of men a little while, 
For you, with wisdom of a deeper lore, 
Will be content to rest,— evading guile, 
Inspiring with the courage of your shining smile. 



83 



TRANSITION 

I do not long to be down South 
Tho harsh the March wind blows 

I would not miss the rapid change 
To warmth from sugar-snows ! 

And even now the yellow clumps 

Of crocuses are bright 
As brilliant oranges down there — 

And Spring comes overnight ! 



M 



THE WINDS OF THE DAWNING 

The winds of the dawning are turning my feet 

far astray; 
World-calls for my fingers and foosteps I cannot 

obey, 
For something is luring and urging to dreamland 

to-day. 

My garments are billowing free in the breezes 

that woo. 
And I can but follow, arms eagerly reaching 

out, too. 
To gather the dreams that outnumber the clouds 

in the blue. 

The world has grown small and recedes in the 

brilliance of light 
Now shining in happy possession of dreams that 

invite. 
Who cares for material snares? It is dreams 

that requite! 



85 



THE FAIRIES' PICNIC 

Far on the mountain the sun-fays are dancing, 
High in the sky the cloud-pixie wings fly, 

Sparkles, the foam-waves, like gems are en- 
hancing, 
Topaz-lights gleam from the hillside near by. 

This is the day of the fairies' excursion ! 

Nature is decked in a festive array; 
Animals frolic to whispered coercion — 

Who does not know it is Fairyland Day? 

Nymphs and wee gnomes, hand in hand, bend the 
grasses. 
Sprites play their pranks with an artful caress : 
There, through the woodland, the queen's car- 
riage passes 
Led by old Pan piping on with finesse. 

See them, come ! Follow and join in the revel — 
People are stupid who veil wonder-eyes ! 

Come though the breezes your calm may dishevel. 
This is the day of the fairies' surprise. 



86 



OLD SONGS 

Rondeau 

They come and go — the songs we heard 
When childhood played upon the stage: 
I turn back softly to that page 
And still recall each little word. 

Sweet and clear, like note of bird 
Or far oft echo from a sage 
They come and go. 

My heart with crowding thoughts is stirred 
As melodies of old engage, — 
Those lullabys that still assuage ! 
For when I need uplifting gird 
They come and go. 



87 



RONDEL OF GRATITUDE 

O God, how thankfully I read the line 
Some unknown poet's flaming mind has made: 
Emotion deftly interchanged is laid 
Upon my restless heart and now is mine. 

It shames me when to failure I incline, 
It holds me high, and when I am afraid 

God, how thankfully I read the line 
Some unknown poet's flaming mind has made. 

1 long to tell him how his words entwine 
Themselves among my thoughts to give me aid 
Yet he can never know and my crusade 

Of gratitude is lost : but at my shrine 
O God, how thankfully I read the line! 



8S 



THE LIGHT 

Rondeau 

It shall be mine! My faithful search shall find, 
Beyond the night by which our eyes are blind, 
A sure tho subtle glimmer of the day 
Which follows, ending darkness. I shall say 
" Tis only night and gloom that are unkind !" 

Black night has frightened me and made my mind 
Lose reasoned poise as gropingly I wind 
In frantic search of calming light ! I pray 
It shall be mine! 

And so it comes ! White day glides in behind 
The baleful night, and now my soul shall bind 
And banish shuddering terrors quite away. 
Oh, I will gather in a roundelay 
Life,giving light, and sing with wise mankind 
"It shall be mine!" 



89 



A BALLADE OF DOERS 

I wonder which is man's best bent? 

To do or be ! For each is free 
To choose his heart's own instrument — 

But while I, choosing, bend the knee 

My song is but a threnody, 
Or minor lay. I never knew 

The tones to make a symphony, 
But I can praise the ones who do. 

The ones who pipe with great portent, 

And fill the world with jubilee. 
Have chosen life most excellent. 

Ah, some can deftly touch the key, 

But some of us can only be! 
Like shining love, I, too, would strew 

The world with songs of joy and glee — 
But I can praise the ones who do. 

All those who sing and work are sent 
To follow thus the world's decree. 

Each tiny task with great is blent, 

And through man's toil the seers foresee 
The earth a place of heaven's degree. 

Man's faithfulness to make us new! 
Not all will work for life's small fee, 

But I can praise the ones who do. 



90 



Dear persons all, whose work I see, 
World gratitude goes out to you, 

Oh, some of us can only BE, 

But I can praise the ones who DO! 



91 



'XOUP DE GRACE" 

I played upon life's seashore 
And chased the breakers out, 

But when the wave beat back at me 
It was a whelming rout ! 

If I had known how fruitless 
To fight against the tide, 

I should have saved myself the rout- 
But would have clung to pride. 



92 



FAR AS THE DREAM OF SPACE 

We do not always think in words. 

Ideas flit across the brain like birds 

And like them rise above on wings 

That do not even touch the names of things ! 

High, fundamental, vision free. — 

These are the flights I need to make me see. 



9i 



SUMMER RAIN 

Tlie tender threnody of steady rain 
Blends music pathos with the heart's own pain; 
And earthy fragrancy of growing things 
Surrounds old hurts with new-born offerings. 



94 



A GOLDEN DAY 

Arise ! Now comes the scintilla/ting day 
Between the gray October gales that blow ! 

Come singing, — lift your hearts from grief and 
know 

That you must take the sunshine path of play 

To find the glory-thoughts that wing their way 
On kissing, clinging winds, — gay thoughts, 

that go 
A-dancing through the slanting beams below 

And climb the trees to find the highest ray! 

Awake, my heart, look up and meet the thought 
Of God that fills the air with glory-strewn 

Delight ! The colored leaves, unasked, unbought, 
Like flaming fires of unknown things, com- 
mune 

With autumn's rich conceit and thus is wrought 
A golden day far lovelier than June. 



95 



TO A NOVEMBER ROSE 

Brave little, bright little autumn rose, 
Holding your head up in wintry snows ! 
Battered leaves sodden and cheerless and gray — ' 
You are still crimson, royally gay. 

Shadows depressing and all gone awry! 
Where is the sunshine, where is the sky? 
Everything dull and so crisp and so cold, 
But there you are shining in velvet and gold. 

Sadly I study the garden's grim mood, 
Perfectly matching my own solitude. 
And I shrink from myself and the garden, too, 
But red little rose, I am drawn to you. 



96 



WISHES 

I like to feel the snow-flakes gently fall upon 

my face. 
Like butterflies they flutter, whirl and turn and 

interlace, 
Till finally some blow my way and light with 

winning grace. 

I like to think that they are whimsey wishes of 

my friends 
With glowing light and goodly cheer; that this 

wee flake portends 
Ideal joy, and that one during ills can make 

amends. 

As clear as crystal comes each floating wish with 

pure intent. 
Sun-bright while drifting high in air — a dancing 

blandishment, 
And warm good-will can make insensate wraith 

seem true event. 

Exalting wishes everywhere, these shining flakes 

now stilled ! 
They wrap the dreary landscape in a lustral 

snow-white gild 
To indicate the splendor — if their wish could be 

fulfilled ! 

97 



THE SPIRIT OF THE PRAIRIE 

O the sweep of the wide open prairie, 
That invites Hke the heart of a friend, 

With the roll and incline of the coulee 
And the freedom of limitless end ! 

O the lift of immensities' distance, 
The curve of the wide circling skies, 

Pure ozone that blows from the foothills 
With a clear and refreshing surprise ! 

How the feet of my horse create music, 
Like a swinging and rythmical song, 

While the beat of my heart's supreme fervor 
Learns love as we lope, lope along ! 

For the life of my soul was in bondage; 

It had never known where to expand — 
But lo, on the prairie unbounded 

It can splendidly grow to command! 



98 



A CITY— PASSING GLIMPSE 

The tops of buildings and a tall church spire 
Against the misty hills which make a frame 
Encircled round a town! Who knows the 
name, 

Or cares to know? Illusion's gift seems higher 

Than history and lifts the vision nigher 
Renown than other sites of greater fame. 
The halls reflect the sun in flash of flame 

And with their beauty set my heart afire. 

It is a city folded to the heart 

Of noble constant hills. To man a home, 
Built steadfastly with love as guiding chart, 

And when I see the central looming dome 
It holds a thought uplifted and apart — 

Lo, for the hour, as great as ancient Rome. 



99 



TO A NIGHTHAWK ON THE WING 

Oh, nightly flying bird in heaven's high arching 
blue, 
I watch you circle far and strangely soar, 
Or stop in sudden turning — crying hoarse halloo. 
To downward drop and then your flight 
restore. 

I wait for evening's twilight glow to hear the 
whirr 

That stirs an after silence in your wake, 
And with you I would be, a winged adventurer, 

Your perfect poise and madness to partake. 

Wide wings can beat against the shadowed azure 

sky 

So swiftly that my eyes can scarce pursue; 

But thought, more swift than fleetest wings, can 

onward fly 

And with your dusky path keep rendezvous. 

Although your winging joy to mortals is not 
given. 
The rapture of the spirit's peerless flight 
Is symbol of the day when, swift, the soul is 
riven 
From earth-bound time to know your free 
delight. 

100 



SOUND FROM SILENT NIGHT 

When depth of night comes drifting down 
through space 

And darkness touches everything, 
Deep quiet creeps along earth's phantom face 

With tentacles of sleep that cling. 

But when the night charm broods in that dim 
hour, 

Awake, O mystic groping soul, — 
'Tis then that God seems nearest in His power, 

And magic sounds through silence roll! 

What is that soft vibration in the air? 

Some wind-wave, wireless telegraph. 
Some far off fog-horn booming its rude blare, 

Or gnomes who in the darkness laugh? 

Is it a meteor fallen in its sleep 

With distant cataclysmic crash? 
Or waves of ether in the open deep, 

Or clinking trails when comets clash? 

Perhaps Aurora, in a chariot drawn, 

Is rumbling high in astral space! 
Perhaps it is the matin song of dawn. 

Or moonmen from their lunar place! 



101 



Nay, none of these : I hear the sound anew — 

The echo of the Holy One 
Who passes through the heavens to review 

Each God-made brilhant starry sun! 

It was not some dekisive sound I heard 

For wavelets tell it to the shore, 
The leaves repeat it to the trees, the bird 

Trills in the darkness to adore. 

A trembling joy awakens to respond 
And out of hearts true worship flows. 

Oh, faint conception of that One beyond 

Whose endless might and power — who knows ? 



102 



